


Phinks' First Girlfriend

by kawoshin



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Biting, Breast Worship, Closeted Character, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Facials, Feminization, Grinding, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, kind of.... i guess. it's not bad IDK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawoshin/pseuds/kawoshin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But you’re straight, aren’t you?” Chrollo pulled away slightly, and Phinks was attentive to the other man’s white breasts, nudged up against his, fleshier and heaving with each breath. </p>
<p>Phinks swallowed, hard. Straight thoughts filled his head, exceptionally straight thoughts.</p>
<p>“Mhm, Phinks is straight Boss, not much you can do about that,” Feitan had moved on to another drink, reminding the two that everyone was undeniably still watching. Chrollo appeared to be on the verge of frowning, yet his face morphed into an unexpected grin, spurring him to nestle closer to the man he was seated on, squirming in his lap.</p>
<p>“Maybe I can be your girlfriend then, Phinks?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phinks' First Girlfriend

**Author's Note:**

> I'M............................... Alright. Here it is, some weird teasy PhinChrollo and nasty HisoKuro (per usual). I really was never satisfied with this, not matter how much I changed, so I gave up and just posted it. It's not really anything serious so no use in getting too worked up over it.  
> I tried to be pretty liberal with the tags, I didn't want anyone to stumble in on something they didn't like, but there aren't any homophobic slurs or things of that nature. Phinks just wants to be the stereotyped masculine man's man........ but he has a hot curvy boss............ poor guy.
> 
> Anyway, hmu on tumblr if you want to talk about gross PhinChrollo stuff because I love it. My tumblr is silvakuros.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please comment/kudo/bookmark !

Chrollo Lucilfer was a person who was never quite satisfied in whatever quest he found himself on. Upon reaching the conclusion of his crusade, regardless of what it be, he barely had time to admire the surrounding carnage before setting onto a new pursuit, insatiable. There was not a single human being, a sole feeling, which captured his attention fully; it was all surface level. He could never make a commitment to anything, because at no time did he find himself utterly interested in what he was set upon doing. Of course, the Troupe was an entirely different entity, free from his musings, that he would most always be connected to. Aside from that, he was at a loss.

This quirk often led to incessant running, a search for both riches and metaphysical understanding of himself. Cities were laid bare, painless victims to his somewhat childish curiosity, avoided by light treading of leather boots. People died, but it did not matter so much as it was just a nuisance to deal with. Barely did he ever have to get his own hands dirty, but he did not mind that, it just never gave him an answer, in the end.

Above all, it also lead to Chrollo being a pass out drunk, the kind you could not leave alone by themselves at a bar without knowing full well you would return to a mess.  
This was not to be confused with a sloppy drunk. Chrollo never vomited or lost utter control of himself, he just drank until he physically could not anymore, head lolled onto someone else’s supportive shoulder, voluminous lashes drifting across his cheek.  
His tolerance was quite built, however, and the hours before he went comatose were the most entertaining.

-

It was a Friday night, Chrollo’s absolute favorite to loosen up on. It marked beginning the weekend promisingly, having fun now, as opposed to later. Not as if the days of the week mattered much to him in his line of work, but traditions were provocative, and the thief was rarely opposed to a well-timed bought of celebration for him and his spiders.

The penthouse of a bar so elegant and expensive it was called a ‘lounge’, was theirs for the evening. Plush couches and walls of pure glass surrounded the group of thirteen, creating a quivering, half-breakable atmosphere that Chrollo adored. Yorknew was alight with nightlife, the neon signs illuminating the dully lit room and spreading a bluish hue against the drinks that were either clutched in sweaty fists or resting on some mirrored table.

It was the height of the night, hours into the celebration, nowhere near the time of questioning how the reverie would come to a close. Nobunaga and Uvogin had already arm wrestled on every surface aside from the coffee table, which usually occurred at about the apex of the festivities, currently clearing said area.

Pakunoda removed her martini glass from the tabletop to create room for the two, twirling the slim glass stem between her fingers. Chrollo watched the two barbarians begin their battle from beside her, legs crossed, face inscrutable. He finished the mixed drink in his own hands before setting it on the ground, glass clinking clamorously enough to grab the attention of those closest to him.

“Phinks,” Chrollo turned to the couch adjacent to his, seizing the gaze of the relaxing man, “Let’s have a competition.”

This was paramount, the moment all members had held their breath for. Whomever Chrollo approached at this time, would be responsible for him for the rest of the night, and well into the morning. This selected person would need to not only keep an eye on him, but control their boss, for the only time in their life.

Phinks was taken aback, beer can groaning in his twitching grip. He had never been shown this opportunity, and he certainly had not prepared for it. Pakunoda, who was more often than not the person chosen for this job, had seated herself next to Chrollo and paced herself the entire night, grooming herself for her later task. Yet, the plans had changed.

The tall man was slouched in drunkenness, well into his euphoric state, unequipped and frankly scared at what would come of this. Chrollo stood, collecting the fur coat around his shoulders as it slid down his bare arms, gracefully approaching his new seat.

Feitan rose from his spot next to Phinks, opening a spot for the other man, sure to conceal the absolute look of sadistic delight on his face. He knew Phinks, he knew what would come of this, and he knew exactly why the blonde man was so terrified.

“Let’s see who can do more shots, a drinking contest,” Chrollo offered his eerie smile up at the tan man, solid in his challenge. Phinks began to sweat, Chrollo’s thick thigh pressing against his own trembling one, covered only in meager black fabric.

“S-Sure, what’d you want to drink?” Phinks set his half-drained can down on the table, now vacant of any manly tournament. There were bedecked shot glasses that had once been serving as an adult centerpiece, and he grabbed two, sitting back to see Chrollo watching him intently.

“Vodka,” Chrollo’s eyes found a bottle of Grey Goose at the end of the table hungrily, enchanted when Feitan passed it to Phinks without delay.

“You sure?” Phinks hesitated, unsure whose wellbeing he was looking out for. His fingers were lax when Chrollo pulled a glass from between them.

“Do you think you’ll lose?” Chrollo smiled again, and Phinks twisted the cap of the foggy bottle free with one thumb.

“Doubt it,” There was a smidgen of a smirk on Phinks’ face. The leader’s eyes widened from their already large state in excitement, if by only a fraction, rings of lashes hitting his brow bone.

-

By the time the game had gotten into its own custom rhythm, the entirety of the Troupe had begun to place bets. An overwhelming majority had favored with Chrollo, and they were not wrong for doing so. If Phinks had not been piss drunk by the time the game had started, he most certainly was now, hours of alcohol consumption culminating in the seconds of downing shots.

“Fuck,” Phinks slammed his glass down, using unintentional strength, the glass shattering with enough fervor to graze his skin somewhat. The liquid had lost its telltale bite, but his mouth had begun to reject the lukewarm liquor, reaching his well experienced threshold.

Glass scattered, yet no one avoided it, well aware they were in no danger. Chrollo brushed an unruly strand of hair back, styled locks piecing beneath his fingers. Everyone awaited Phinks’ next move, while said man waited for the world to slow, the peripherals of his vision an indistinguishable blur.

“Do I win, then?” Chrollo spun the shot glass in his grip, droplets of liquid still clinging stubbornly to the bottom. “What do I get for winning?”

Feitan was reeling, he knew exactly what was about to happen, as did the rest of the assembled people, air thick with ruthless anticipation.

“Dunno, what’d you want?” Phinks leant back, running a shaky hand through his hair, eyes squeezed to minimize the damage of quick movement. A wild snickering spread throughout the predatorily amassed onlookers, an attractive pack of hyenas thoroughly overjoyed at the carnage to come.

Everyone else was roaring at this invitation, aware of how horrible of an idea it was to speak those words, but Phinks’ was intoxicated, he had no clue.

The drunk man could just narrowly register the weight that had been applied to his lap before his eyes shot open, wheezing as Chrollo’s thighs squeezed his own in a vice grip. Dead weight on the larger man’s lap, Chrollo interlocked his fingers behind Phinks’ head, pulling his now jellied neck up so their eyes met.

“Maybe you could show me what’s under that tracksuit?”

Yes, before Chrollo was a pass out drunk, he was a sexual one, and the whole Troupe knew this. 

The chaste (and Sapphic,) Pakunoda was most always content to let him lay his silky head on her lap, running his fingers all across the milky expanse of her voluptuous thighs, urging him softly to succumb to sleep as his fingers inched at her satin panty line. And so, she was often assigned his bodyguard, making sure he did not inch too far, and of the utmost importance, making sure he stayed away from Hisoka.

But Chrollo had chosen something else to occupy him tonight, and the comedic value of the outcome was immeasurable.

Where a majority of the Troupe was uncaring when it came to the obviousness of their sexual escapades (or lack thereof,) being full-grown adults with complicated intrapersonal relationships, Phinks was the exception. Straight, yes Phinks was very straight, he may not have a woman in his life at the given moment, but of course he was straight. Do not ask him about it again.

Yes, Phinks was straight enough to be homophobic, locking himself further in the closet with each slur flung at Shalnark as he sat perched upon Uvogin’s wide lap. So straight, in fact, he and Feitan had been ‘comfortable enough as bros’ to sleep together more than once.

Phinks was so wholly straight, that each time he scrolled carefully through Chrollo’s Instagram, he most certainly did not spend a solid fifteen minutes gawking at the picture where another man’s hand sat firm on Chrollo’s chest, the flesh of his unusually buxom breast maltreated for all to publicly see.

‘Look at what Chrollo just posted.’ Was a more than common text he received from Feitan. The other was aware of Phinks’ jailed crush on their boss, and found unmitigated delight in watching the unnecessarily stressed man squirm at the sight of Chrollo’s occasionally suggestive behavior or choice of clothing.

Phinks’ heterosexuality was the only thing on his mind as Chrollo draped himself over his lap, jacket slipping to the floor, neglected. The leader was shirtless, his toned, shapely body all Phinks could possibly see as the others rioted around them.

On normal occasions, they would have intervened, but Phinks deserved this, after all. Everyone was painfully aware of his forced straight cover, giving them all hell while he stewed over whether his masculinity was enough to cover his deep seeded thoughts. No one spoke an intelligible word as Chrollo began to unzip Phinks’ jacket, velvet bunching as more of his browned skin was revealed.

“H-Hey, stop! This is fucking crazy, guys. Seriously, stop him or something,” Chrollo had placed his hands, clammy and frigid against Phinks’ own boiling skin, right at the pinned man’s collar bones, feeling about what space he had.

“Why don’t you tell the boss no?” Feitan took a swig of whatever was in his glass, he had forgotten at this point, relishing in watching Phinks flounder in response.  
Phinks looked up at Chrollo, who had his own half-lidded determination set on his face, confident there was no way he could tell him to stop. The drunk man swallowed, acutely aware, yet again, of Chrollo’s weight on him, legs spread and warm.

Chrollo let out a tinkle of laughter, unzipping the rest of Phink’s jacket, pushing it away from his chest so he could admire the entirety of the built torso in front of him. Phinks had a blush that settled on his chest, and the intoxicated explorer began to roam the expanse of it with his hands.

“Boss-“ Phinks’ voice faltered when the hands reached his ribs, fingers curling to test the firmness of the muscles there. A sputtered noise arose as Chrollo began to wiggle his fingers as if he were trying to tickle the inebriated man, smile wide across his gorgeous face.

“I’m not disappointed,” Chrollo shimmied his body closer, causing a shiver to circulate across the other’s body.

“…Really?” Phinks had completely forgotten they were being watched, and his admittance of insecurity was not embarrassing for him in his current state, just a gnawing truth. Chrollo licked his lips, oh God Chrollo licked his lips, and they were suddenly closer, splaying warmth over Phinks’ face.

“Yes, you’re very strong,” Reminiscent of Hisoka in his speech, though on an absolutely different wave length, the man purred the words. His fingers moved to begin massaging Phinks’ shoulders, velvet padding his slow movements.

Phinks had no response, his furious heartbeat surging unspeakable emotion throughout his body. Chrollo was pleased with his body, Chrollo was so near to him he could smell the pale man’s sweat, Chrollo was speaking so sweetly to him; unspeakable thoughts bounded through Phinks head, causing only his blush to spread.

“But you’re straight, aren’t you?” Chrollo pulled away slightly, and Phinks was attentive to the other man’s white breasts, nudged up against his, fleshier and heaving with each breath. 

Phinks swallowed, hard. Straight thoughts filled his head, exceptionally straight thoughts.

“Mhm, Phinks is straight Boss, not much you can do about that,” Feitan had moved on to another drink, reminding the two that everyone was undeniably still watching. Chrollo appeared to be on the verge of frowning, yet his face morphed into an unexpected grin, spurring him to nestle closer to the man he was seated on, squirming in his lap.

“Maybe I can be your girlfriend then, Phinks?” Chrollo crooned it into his ear, and Phinks’ drunk body finally began to stir, suffocated bottom half twitching at the words. The seductive man seemed enthralled at the response he received, rolling his hips once, in delight.

“Y-You don’t have to- Boss, stop!” Phinks was a shade of red no one had ever seen, hands restrained before he could physically react. With astonishing speed, Chrollo had gripped his wrists in a playful, yet startling, hold. The man guided Phinks’ hands toward his waist, draping them over his silken skin, wriggling at the new experience of touch.

The alcohol made each motion more intense, a slow sweetness trickling down Chrollo’s body as he closed his eyes in contentment at the frenzied shock of first contact. Phinks was shaking, Chrollo could feel the palms of his hands bouncing against his back as they rattled, causing the calm man to smile.

A smidgen of the fear came from just yelling at the leader, but a majority was from the hardness that had begun to grow against his thigh, petrified the other would notice. However, Chrollo already had, and as scheduled, it caused him to run his mouth.

“Hm? Is that okay? I’ll be your girlfriend then,” Chrollo bent forward, intertwining his arms behind Phinks’ head again, angling so he could press his own hardness against the dazed man’s. “You need to tell me if that’s okay, I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Phinks spoke up, pressing his hands against Chrollo’s back, shocked again as more friction was created when the other fell into him, “I, uh… I mean, if you want to, you can.”

The leader sighed in elation, allotting another grinding movement at the acceptance. Phinks breathed out low enough so that only Chrollo caught the deep grunt beneath his exhalation, everyone else too busy cackling at their friend’s first relationship.

“Congratulations, Phinks! Your first girlfriend!” Shalnark piped up over the guffawing, clapping his hands.

“So you’ll be taking care of the boss tonight, I presume?” Hisoka lulled, and Phinks twitched as Chrollo buried his gelled head into the crook of his neck.

“Can’t my boyfriend and I get some alone time?” Chrollo whined. Everyone snickered mindlessly, turning away, leaving the restrained man to fluster alone. Pakunoda reached out to place a hand on Phinks’ shoulder, careful her nails did not skim what part of him was bare. The slight squeeze of her reassuring palm was a solid attempt to remind Phinks what his duty was, and the other nodded as his Adam’s apple bounced with a dry swallow.

Regardless of what was said, he was too vanquished by each of Chrollo’s soft movements to understand the situation with clarity. Liquor rimmed his vision as the black-haired man lifted his head, meeting Phinks’ eyes with his own wet, varnished ones. The two stared, one frozenly unsure, the other unreadable, before Chrollo shifted back to his original position, hips swinging with the small movement.

Chrollo stared at Phinks’ face with his vexing gaze, steely in another light at the recent events. He held a supreme power now that Phinks never knew he would be submitting to, but when the leader inched his face closer, it was as if the excitement he regularly enflamed in his subordinates was just gaining another facet.

“Should I do what girlfriends do, then?” It was not a question that Phinks was meant to answer, and Chrollo did not give him pause to, shaking his hips to loosen the grip on them. “You should touch my breasts.”

“I-uh, I can’t- I mean that’s not-“ Phinks felt his lower half jump again, and Chrollo tilted his head in laughter, buxom chest drawing the attention. When he returned his gaze back to the man’s face, he grabbed Phinks’ hands, sliding them up his body. Chrollo’s mellow mouth-breathing hitched as the light droll of fingertips reached his nipples, body shaking as he let go of his commanding position.

“Go ahead,” Chrollo’s velvet voice prodded, arching his back to slither quickly into the touch. Phinks swallowed again, emptying his already arid mouth, cupping his hands as he took Chrollo’s thick flesh into his grasp. The head thief sighed, lolling his head as hairs tickled the crick of his neck.

“Are they big enough?” Chrollo opened his eyes, lashes concealing a majority of his provocative gaze. Phinks knew better than to believe Chrollo was insecure of his body, aware that all men who caught sight of him shirtless wondered where they stood sexually. And now, Phinks could no longer hide that he was deep in Chrollo’s allurement, fingering the plush beneath his grip.

Phinks was aching as Chrollo began to swirl his hips again, arms bracing himself from behind, nails digging into Phinks’ knees. He was aware of the other’s eyes on him, but Phinks kept his gaze on the pecs in front of him, molding them with intense attention and appreciation.

“H-Hah, you really like them that much? I guess you can touch them whenever you want now, but only when I say you can,” Chrollo reached a hand between them to run his skillful fingers up the outline of Phinks’ clothed dick, eyes widening at the length.

Phinks jolted, pad of his thumb scraping the nipple he had been observing. Chrollo let out a winded moan, and Phinks began to get light headed.

He was barely conscious as Chrollo leant forward, grazing his nails over Phinks' abdomen. Phinks felt his eyes close as he jerked at the movement, last vivid memory Chrollo’s subdued whispering in his ear.

-

“H-hgh! Well, someone’s angry…” The magician startled as two hands of keened nails raked down his chest, catching each ridged muscle.

“Well, I hardly got what I wanted tonight,” Chrollo, without warning, began to move, lifting himself up with all of his weight on his sharpened nails. Hisoka’s skin broke with a lewd moan, careful not to tilt his hips any further, as he would be scolded.

“I hope I can serve as a proper replacement, Boss,” The words were punctuated each with a gasp as Chrollo rode the splayed man, cockiness lost at the rapid movement. Chrollo bent forward, arching to keep his control over the pace as he latched onto Hisoka’s neck, teeth barred against his tongue.

The masked man was more than happy to receive the brunt of Chrollo’s annoyance, sure this reared its head less often than any other side of the man. The veins beneath Hisoka’s neck were quivering as Chrollo drunkenly gnashed at them, pounding himself on the man’s dick, panting against his lapping tongue.

“B-Boss, ahhh… Hey, don’t work too hard, you’ll pass out too-“ Hisoka was smiling when Chrollo caught hold of his bottom lip, rolling the sensitive skin between his teeth. Hisoka’s hips were now spurring on their own, yet the other man seemed to have no objection, letting out delightful moans with each slap of skin against skin.

The subordinate daringly reached out to dig his fingers into Chrollo’s thick ass, bruising the paleness there. Chrollo rounded upward as he moaned, head tilted back in complete ecstasy, while Hisoka continued to use his inflexible grip as an anchor, forcing Chrollo down with each jarring pull of his hands. The moaning thief pulled his hands away from assaulting Hisoka to cover his own mouth, drool dribbling between his fingers as he gasped.

“I-I can’t, I can’t cum yet, stop it. H-Hiso-“ Chrollo failed at speech when said man slapped his ass, overstepping every line he possibly could, groaning gleefully. “Yo-ou can’t! Stop- I’ll…”

Hisoka ran his nails up Chrollo’s erect dick, slick with various liquids, causing the man to wail lasciviously. His shapely thighs were quivering, hips pitched forward in a physical beg for more. Hisoka rolled his fingers over the head of the throbbing dick in front of him, precum coating his long nails. It took all of his willpower to continue to touch the man and not remove his hands to lap up all of the seemingly delectable liquid he had waited so long to taste.

“A-Ah Hisoka- I’m coming, I-“

“It’s okay, Boss, I-I’m coming too. Why don’t we, together then? Ah…” Hisoka fisted all of Chrollo’s dick in his hand, hips now jarring at a punishing pace, bouncing off of the plush skin of Chrollo’s ass with each shallow smack. “Won’t you cum with me, Chrollo?”

Chrollo threw his head back instantly, releasing himself all over Hisoka’s scratched body. Some flew up to cover the man’s face, which had been tilted forward to watch. Feeling the liquid beginning to drip onto his face, the magician groaned, grinding to a halt as he emptied himself inside of Chrollo’s jerking insides. 

After the trembling aftermath began, Hisoka was hit with a weight to the center of his chest. Pulling a face, the man glanced down beneath his coated eyelashes, watching as  
Chrollo lay comatose atop his chest. The shared cum between them smeared with each heavy breath the other took, and Hisoka tsk-ed, pulse finally returning to normal.

“Looks like we both got deadweights tonight, hmm?”

-

Phinks was furious.

He could not remember when he had ever been this angry, in earnest. Granted, he often thought this whenever he was upset, but he meant it this time. Truly. The veins of his neck were pulsating grotesquely, skin blotched and red in utter rage.

“Boss, why are you giving me the easy jobs?” The man attempted to control his voice, but it was futile. The words still hit the ceiling of the hideout, disturbing the stray birds nesting there with seething embarrassment and annoyance.

Chrollo had his hands in his jacket’s pockets, and he was not shirtless, the now familiar lily whiteness of his chest tucked away in (what they all assumed to be,) a sick punishment for Phinks. The leader did not openly react at his words, simply staring with his calculated, hungover face.

“Because, you apparently can’t seem to handle hard things, Phinks.”

The way he spoke it, with such seriousness, made Phinks feel as if he were going to throw up. An onslaught of giggles began from the assembled members, Feitan unable to contain his rancorous cackle.

Chrollo moved his eyes from the harassment below, Phinks beginning to scream at them all ‘To shut their mouths before he did it for them.’ A slight tread of footsteps caught his attention as Hisoka slipped into the room, fully dressed, yet purposely missing a vital piece of his daily wear.

His makeup today covered merely his face, leaving the natural skin of his neck open to the gawks it undoubtedly summoned. He appeared as if he had gone through a battle field, where the main purpose of the war was to give your opponent virtually as many hickies as possible. The bruises were a hideous deep purple, passing the point of normal enjoyment and into pure cruelty.

Gazes shifted from his pockmarked neck to Chrollo’s, covered by his high reaching shirt, a rarely worn and conservative outfit. 

An unfortunate bout of understanding hit the Troupe, and in sworn union, they turned their blame to Phinks, the pass out drunk who could not handle his job.

Hisoka was grinning disgustingly as Chrollo turned away, already tired with the aftermath of it all. He sat and pinched the bridge of his nose, pounding migraine washing out the ruckus below, sweet words of last night forgotten as Phinks was put on a witch hunt.


End file.
